


Tambry: Get Blackout Drunk

by TTMIYH



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Drunkenness, Elves, Exhibitionism, Fantasy, Female Solo, Gen, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 17:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18298661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TTMIYH/pseuds/TTMIYH
Summary: "Guess who's been drinking four of these and wants somediiiiiiiiick!?" She yelled, to nobody in particular, the glass of her windows thick enough to eat most of the noise. Someone yelled a "What?" back, but Tandry didn't pay enough attention to care. Instead, she plopped herself on her table, laying back and kicking her legs up as far as they could go.





	Tambry: Get Blackout Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by [foursnail](https://twitter.com/foursnail).

"Yoo-hoo!"

Tandry was having a lovely, thoroughly sloshed sort of day - or night, as it were, but time was an illusion with this much alcohol in her system, along with the moon, the stars, and her window curtains. On second thought, the curtains weren't exactly an illusion, but at some point in the past hour she had definitely ripped them off and thrown them to the floor, and while it wasn't exactly a small crowd even, a handful of stragglers had gathered around her windows to watch her drunk dalliances. Already, her undergarments had been removed and flung elsewhere, to land on some part of her furniture that she wasn't bothering to pay attention to. All she knew was that it wasn't a lamp, and thus, did not set anything on fire, which was good - being set on fire was a distinctly un-sexy thing to do, albeit somewhat appropriate for a drunkard.

You see, Tandry was having a great old time with the innkeeper's excess mead from the spring's honey harvest, the lovely, lovely man giving her a bunch of the excess, and so here she was, freely chugging it like a regular alcoholic, one hand occupied by the neck of a fresh glass bottle, the other freely waving to the handful of people outside. No, she hadn't gotten naked yet, but she did accidentally spill a little booze on her about a minute ago, and her clothes had gotten just damp enough that she was seriously considering removing them. Even if not for the attention, for the fact that having damp clothes on was uncomfortable, and it made her chest feel sticky and uncomfortable. She grabbed her hat, tugged it off, and threw it at a table, watching it land squarely on a stack of empty bottles. 

Oh yeah. Hat golem. Let's work on that when we wake up.

She was definitely aware of the fact that people were staring at her through the windows, although if it was "acutely aware" or "dimly aware" was a debate for a later date, when she was sober, with herself. But she was aware, and the attention was definitely leading places, as she figured out for herself when she leaned over on her table and hiked her ass up the best she could, showing off that pert rump to anyone who cared to watch. She kicked a foot up and out, and then wiggled like an earthworm at a dance party, letting herself wobble just enough with the velocity of her motion, until she heard a cheering noise from through the glass, and figured that it was time to put her dress back down.

She grabbed a chair, leaned up into it, and threw her head back like she was preparing to yodel, filling her mouth with mead instead of loud mountaineer noises, draping herself over the back of the chair dramatically. Her titties popped out over the top of her dress, but the fucks she gave about that was a number distinctly equal to or fewer than zero. In fact, as she popped the bottle out of her mouth with a loud, distinct popping sound, she gripped her dress and slowly wiggled out of it. She tried to put on a show, but she almost ended up stumbling into the table, and after a couple of minutes of drunk effort, she was disrobed, nude as the day she was born, everything out for the window-watchers to enjoy and admire. There was probably enough alcohol in her system to make her sick if the plot demanded it, but instead, it was just enough to get her looser than a greased up snake on a rainy rooftop.

Loose enough to stand up on the chair for that extra bit of height, narrowly avoid tripping over her own feet and causing a catastrophic accident, and spreading her butt out for the few outside the window to observe and admire, before hopping back down. "Guess who's been drinking four of these and wants some  _diiiiiiiii_ _ck_!?" She yelled, to nobody in particular, the glass of her windows thick enough to eat most of the noise. Someone yelled a "What?" back, but Tandry didn't pay enough attention to care. Instead, she plopped herself on her table, laying back and kicking her legs up as far as they could go. She felt a little more flexible and limber than normal, so why not test out that drunken flexibility by pulling her legs up as close to her as she could, giving her a comfortable stretch while she attempted to be seductive, dragging her hand down her stomach and letting it come to rest on her slit.

Then, she lifted her palm up and down a couple of times like it was a mouth. Hahaha, coochmouth. Her horniness reclaimed her quickly, however, and she began shamelessly rubbing circles into her folds, before using two fingers to spread them apart, giving a great shot for anyone outside, her other arm limply hanging by her side while she kicked her heels back and forth. She managed to get a finger into herself quickly enough, before deciding that she wasn't quite up to that level of debauchery yet, and grabbed another bottle of mead, cracking it open, and unceremoniously dumping some in her mouth. She gave it a minute, letting her legs dangle, before she brought her hand back to the party, poking and prodding at herself like she was unsure where she was in three-dimensional space.

She stared upwards at the cieling, watching shapes and figures form in the wood while her brain attempted to interpret the lack of interesting visual stimuli as faces and patterns, when in reality, it was just wood (and alcohol making her imagination overactive). But it was definitely distracting enough that when she started pumping a finger in and out of her, she was able to keep herself from stopping out of embarassment purely by focusing on wood, thinking about the trees that her home was built out of, and not the way pressure was building in her gut and a flush on her cheeks from the immense quantities of alcohol in her gut. She was, as the kids say, hooched off her tits, with every sip only adding to said hooch-o-meter. When she came, it wasn't some kind of spectacular explosion, but she did clench up tightly like she was attempting to crush her own finger, legs crossing over at the ankles, and she let out a noise that her flirtier side sure hoped her audience could hear. Something a little overdone and exaggerated, but, unfortunately, it wasn't loud enough to really hear.

So, as the saying went, she saw, she came, and then, exhausted, she proceeded to fall asleep on the table, spilling the open mead bottle onto the floor in the process.

That's just what happens sometimes.

Sleep tight, Tandry!

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, kudos, bookmarks, and views are seen, noted, and greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
> 
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